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THOUGHTS  IN  RHYME 


TMOUGMTS 
IN 

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Sarah  ISAetcalf  Phipps 


New  York 

1911 


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Copyright,  1911 
By  SARAH  METCALF  PHIPPS 


The  MASON-HENRY  Press 
Syracuse  and  New  York 


Contents 


Page 

The  Spider  Weh       .  .  .  .        i 


The   Bird  at  My    Window        .         .       j 
Moonlight   on   the  Sea       ,  .  .       4 

The  Patter  of  Rain  ...       5 

W  itch-Hazel  .         .         .         .       6 

The   Ocean         .  ....       8 

March    Wind  .  .  .  .10 

My   Sweetheart's  Bouquet  .  .11 

My  Daffodil 13 

April 14 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit        .  .  .  *      l5 

Sunlight  .  .  .  .  >      17 

Orchard  House  .  .  .  •      ^9 


L«^>j|.  00 


-j«- 


CONTENTS 


The    Try  sting   Place 

.       21 

The   Tangle   of  the   Trees 

•     24 

The  Water-Lily          .         .          . 

.     26 

The  Meadows 

•     27 

To  Alice            .         .         .         . 

.     29 

The  Waning  of  Summer 

'     31 

Her  Portrait       .         .         .         . 

'     30 

^'The  Eternal  Feminine" 

.     34 

Moonlight 

.     36 

Jewels        .... 

.     38 

September  Days 

.     41 

The  Autumn  Leaf 

.     43 

October 

.     45 

Autumn  Days 

.     47 

December 

.     ^p 

CONTENTS 


A  Happy  Christmas 

.     51 

The  Vigil  of  New  Years  Eve     . 

.    54 

Moods 

.    56 

Sad  Heart          .... 

.    57 

Cow -Bells           .... 

.    5S 

Good-Bye           .         . 

.     59 

Who   Knows? 

.     di 

Look  Within 

.     ^2 

Dedicated  to 

ONE  I  LOVE 

A.  G.  K. 


THOUGHTS 


The  Spider  Web 

The  spider  weaves,  from  hour  to 

hour, 
An    exquisite    web    by    an    occult 

power; 
'Neath  a  shady  tree  on  a  summer 

day 
I  watch   with   wonder   its   mystic 

way. 

The  lines  intersect  and  form  a  part 
Of  a  cryptic  plan,  a  work  of  art. 
Which  fills  the  mind  with  admira- 
tion 
For  a  dainty,  a  fair,  a  deep  crea- 
tion. 

Each  thread  in  the  web  so  skilfully 

wrought. 
With  hidden  purpose  and  meaning 

is  fraught, 
The  filmy  texture,  the  fragile  line, 
Unite  and  form  a  mystic  sign. 


One 


THOUGHTS 


Ah!  could  we  but  weave  a  life  so 

fine 
Where  beauty   is   traced  in   every 

line 
And  e'en  in   our  tears  reflect  the 

light 
That  shines  in  dew  on  the  web  so 

bright. 

Like  the  spider  we  weave  the  web 

of  fate 
'Tis  well  to  know,  though  we  learn 

it  late, 
The   glory    or   shame    of   life   we 

spin 
From    the  Power,   the    Will,   the 

Spirit  within. 


Two 


THOUGHTS 


The  Bird  at  My  Window 


The  sweetest  bird 

I  ever  heard 
Sang  at  my  window  to-day 
A   tender  roundelay. 


On  what  he  said 

After  he  fled 
I  pondered  deep  and  long: 
^Twas  a  sweet  and  plaintive  song. 


Thr 


THOUGHTS 


Moonlight  on  the  Sea 

When    o'er    thy    face    the    mobile 

moonbeams  play 
The  light  of  thy  smile  enchanting 

leads  the  way 
Into  the  rapture,  the  delight 
Of   the  silent,    of   the    mysterious 

night.  .  .  . 
In  the  murmur  of  thy  voice  there  is 

a  luring  stress 
That  soothes  and  wraps  the  soul  in 

tenderest  caress, 
And    as    thou    creepest    near    and 

nearer  unto  me. 
It  is  as  though  with  yearning  arms, 

oh!  sighing  sea, 
Thou  would' st  my  form  enfold  in 

passionate  embrace. 
And  all   my  being  in   thy  charm 

enlace  .  . . . 
The  spirit   of  love   and   night   is 

whispering  to  vie 
Of  the  weird  and  mystic  beauty  of 

moonlight  on  the  sea. 

Four 


THOUGHTS 


The  Patter  of  Rain 

I  love  the  patter  of  rain. 

Of  rain  upon  the  roof; 
It  soothes  away  dull  pain 

And  holds  tired  thought  aloof. 


I  feel  a  deep  content, 

The  heart  revives  again — 

With  musings  sweet  is  blent 
The  sound  of  pattering  rain. 


Five 


THOUGHTS 


Witch-Hazel 

The  witch-hazel  broods  in  the  au- 
tumn woods 
In  a  flood  of  sunshine  mellow, 
Its  branches  forked  with  magic  are 
fraught 
And     tufted    with     flowers    of 
yellow. 

Its   leaves    of   green   and   reddish 
brown 
Upon  the  moist  earth  lie, 
But   the  subtle   fragrance    of   the 
flower 
Is  wafted  to  the  sky. 

The  witch-hazel  thus,  methought, 
it  tells 

By  its  fine  divining-rod 
Of  the  secret  mystery  of  life 

In  the  wondrous  plan  of  God. 


six 


THOUGHTS 


The  human  form  of  earthly  mould 
When  it  has  served  its  day 

Like  the  fallen   leaves  returns  to 
the  sod 
In  its  own  appointed  way — 


But  the  essence  rare,  invisible. 

On  its  upward  course  is  bent 
And  the  spirit  of  man  ascends  to 
God 
Like    the    flowe/s    bewildering 
scent. 


Seven 


THOUGHTS 


The  Ocean 

Words  cannot  paint   the   ocean 

blue 
With    its  shifting   tints   of  tur- 
quoise hue, 
Sparkling    here    in    the    sunshine 

bright 
A  sheet  of  shimmering,  blinding 
light, 
While  there,  a  stretch  of  darker 

shade 
Lies  like  a  plain  of  dark  green 
jade; 
Yet  farther,  a  line  of  mist  so  thin 
A  passing  ship  is  traced  therein. 

Sailing  o^er  deeps  where  the  bil- 
lows roll 

Like  passions  that  surge  in 
man's  wild  soul. 


Eight 


THOUGHTS 


Turbulent,  ceaseless,  the  sea^s  un- 
rest 
Echoes  deep  down  in  the  human 
breast. 
But   beyond?    beyond?   in    vain 

peers  the  eye, 
Beyond  is  the  realm  where  mys- 
teries lie — 

Sailing  through  space  so  immeas- 
urably vast 
Into  the  Infinite  Ocean  at  last. 


Nine 


THOUGHTS 


March  Wind 

O!  for  the  su'eet  JMarch  wind  of 
the  Southland/ 

There    to    forget   the   region    of 
snows, 

Careless  how  fiercely  the  ^  orth 
wind  blows, 

Riots  and  swirls  o'er  ice-bound 
floes.  ..  . 
0/   for   the    balmy   breeze    of   the 
Southland! 

In  swaying  pine-tops  softly  sigh- 
ing, 

Tenderly  whispering  of  love  un- 
dying, 

The  soul  in  wistful  sadness  re- 
plying, 
In   the  dreamy,  love-laden  air  of 
the  Southland! 


Ten 


THOUGHTS 


My  Sweetheart's  Bouquet 

Sweet  eyes  as  deep  as  gentian  blue 
Whose     depths     the     soul     burns 

brightly  through 
JJhere  dicelleth  a  love  both  deep 

and  true. 

Sweet  lips  as  rich  carnations  red 
TJiat    breathe    the    tender    •words 

once  said — 
Kiss,  that  from   memWy  ne'er  has 

fled. 

Soft    silky    threads    of    streaming 

hair 
JVooing  the  breeze  of  the  balmy 


air 


Like  the  flower  of  the  ribbon  grass 
flaxen  fair. 


Eleven 


THOUGHTS 


The  mind  of  a  lily,  the  heart  of  a 

rose, 
Pansies  the  thought  as  it  comes  and 

goes 
Warming   the    cheek    as   it   softly 

glows. 

Sweeter  far  and  of  fairer  hue 

Is  a  flower  that  never  in  garden 

grew — 
I  can  not  name  it,  but  dear — ^tis 

you! 

Whatever   betides    or   come    what 

may, 
Sweetheart,  for  you  Fve  made  the 

bouquet, 
A  tribute  of  love  forever  and  aye. 


Twelve 


THOUGHTS 


My  Daffodil 

My  precious  flower!  my  daffodil! 
The  pretty  flower   thou   gavest 

me! 
With  sweet  and  loving  thoughts 
of  thee 
My  heart  and  pulses  thrill. 

O!  how   much   more  it  means   to 
me! 
So     commonplace     in     others' 

eyes — 
To    me,   a   dear   and    cherished 
prize, 
Because,  my  love,  it  tells  of  thee. 

The  token  of  a  happy  hour 
Is  my  dear  golden  daffodil. 
Its  chalices  pure  love  distil, 

As  with  a  kiss  I  press  my  flower. 


Thirteen 


THOUGHTS 


April 

ApriVs   child   is   of  sunshine  and 

showers — 
(O!  the  caprice  of  happy  hours!) 
A  moment  of  pleasure, 
Joy  without  measure, 
All  the  world  gleams 

Sun-flooded  with  beams — 
Then  comes  the  rush  of  blinding 

rain 
And  only  the  darkening  clouds  re- 
main! 

Life  is  not  always  tears  and  wiles. 
Life   has  its  share   of  beams  and 
smiles; 
Joys  flit  fast, 
Showers  do  not  last. 
Clouds  break  away, 
Behold!  the  sun^s  ray — 
Buoying     with      hope — banishing 

fears 
The  beautiful  rainbow  of  promise 
appears. 


Fourteen 


THOUGHTS 


Jack'in-the-Pulpit 

J ack-in-the-Pulpit  appears  to-day 

And  proclaims  to  all  who  come 
his  way 

A  sermon  of  love,  a  message  of 
spring, 

Which  Jack  and  all  his  compan- 
ions bring — 

Spring  Beauty,  Orchis,  Anemone- 
Rue, 

Blushing  Rhodora  and  Violet 
blue. 

And  gay  Wake  Robin,  while  Ad- 
der's Tongue  tells 

The  tidings  of  spring:  the  glad 
note  swells 

In  throat  of  bird  and  song  of  brook 

Which  hums  and  ripples  through 
shady  nook. 


Fifteen 


THOUGHTS 


All  proclaim  the  season  and  hour 

Of  joy  and  life  for  bird  and  flower. 

There  in  the  midst  of  this  multi- 
tude 

In  quiet  and  placid  dignity  stood 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit — list!  did  he 
say 

In  the  promise  of  Spring  would 
dawn  a  day 

Of  hearfs  delight  and  desire- 
come-true? 

I  cannot  believe  it  at  all — 
Can  you? 


Sixteen 


THOUGHTS 


Sunlight 

The   day   was   gray,   the  sky   was 
overcast, 
Trees,  flowers,  all  forms  in  som- 
ber hue 
Stood  forth  as  though  by  a  cruel 
blast 
Blighted;  but  lo!  heaven  s  o^vn 
kind  blue 
Through  a  cloud-rift  glimpsed — 
and  then,  at  last! 
The  splendor  and  glory  of  the 

sun  broke  through.  . .  . 
Alas,  it  brought  deep  shadows 
too! 

O  wondrous  Nature!  by  a  law  di- 
vine 
Sunlight  and  shadows  make  the 
perfect  days; 


Seventeen 


THOUGHTS 


What    radiant    beauty    when    the 

sunbeams  shine 
Through    raindrops!   when    the 

sun^s  bright  rays 
The  darkest  cloud  with  silver  line. 

Sunlight    or    shadows — heart- 
riven,  astray, 
Nature  reveals  the  perfect  way. 


Eighteen 


THOUGHTS 


Orchard  House 

The  Home  of  Louisa  M,  Alcott 

At  foot  of  the  fragrant  pine-wood 
hill 

There  stands  the  little  brown  cot- 
tage still 

Where  dwelt  Louisa  in  days  of 
yore, 

Louisa  who  penned  enchanting 
lore. 

I  walked  the  path  her  feet  had 
trod 

Where  wild  flowers  bloom  in  the 
verdant  sod; 

I  peered  intent  through  the  win- 
dow-pane 

And  saw  in  fancy  her  form  again 

Sitting  serene  in  the  ingle-nook, 

Where,  mayhap,  she  wrote  that 
book 

Which  charmed  the  hearts  of 
happy  youth. 

Inspiring  them  all  with  love  and 
truth. 

Nineteen 


THOUGHTS 


As  my  face  pressed  hard  against 

the  glass 
A   waking   dream    there    came   to 

pass 
Of  ''Little   Women''  and  ''Little 

Men''— 
God  bless  them  all  is  my  prayer: 

Amen! 


Twenty 


THOUGHTS 


The  Trysting  Place 

With  folded  arms  that  rest  on  the 
railing 
Of  an  old  snake  fence  which  bor- 
ders the  woody 
Bathed  in  the  sunlight  of  day  thafs 
waning 
The  tall  lithe  form  of  a  maiden 
stood. 

A  fair  fresh  flower,  a  child  of  na- 
ture, 
Of    rustic   strength    and    lovely 
mien, 
Part  of  the  freshness  and  fragrance 
around  her, 
With  beauty  and  grace  that  are 
rarely  seen. 


Twenty-one 


THOUGHTS 


The   molded  chin   on   the  arm   is 

resting, 
The  soft  brown  hair  is  caressed 

by  the  breeze, 
The  fawn-like  eyes  are  dreamily 

gazing — 
/  wonder  what  charm  in  the  air 

she  sees! 

Is    the   young    heart    wakened    to 
lovers  quick  throbbing? 
Does  it  feel  the  flutter  of  love's 
unrest? 
Ah!  who  can  divine  the  secret  pon- 
dering, 
The  sweet  dream  hid  in  the  pure 
young  breast? 


Twenty-two 


THOUGHTS 


In  the  wood  that  broods  in  a  per- 
fect stillness, 
Her  ear  expectant  a  sound  has 
heard, 
With  joy  and  a  keen  delight  she 
listens 
To  the  notes  of  a  wild  and  war- 
bling bird. 

But  hark!  the  tread  of  a  footstep 
is  n  earing — 
The  secret  flames  in  her  radiant 
face — 
As    her   form    in    the    arms    of   a 
youth^s  enfolded 
The  kiss  is  claimed  at  the  try  st- 
ing place. 


Twenty-three 


THOUGHTS 


The  Tangle  of  the  Trees 

I  lie  and  look  through  the  tangle, 

The  tangle  of  swaying  trees, 
I  watch  the  shimmering  spangle 

Of  sunlight  on  the  leas. 
The  stately  elm  and  the  willow 

Cast  a  cool  and  spreading  shade 
And  the  green  grass  for  a  pillow 

Titania^s  couch  has  made. 
Where  branches  interlace 

And  sunbeams  filter  through 
I  seem  to  see  thy  face 

And  believe  the  vision  true. 
Bits  of  deep  blue  skies 

Through  half  closed  eyes  I  see 
And  I  fancy  those  dear  eyes 

Are  looking  down  on  me. 


Twenty-four 


THOUGHTS 


Here  and  there  meanwhile 

Are  gleams  of  dancing  light 
That  are  like  the  radiant  smile 

That  fills  me  with  delight. 
I  watch  the  flickering  shadows 

That  all  around  me  play 
And  through  my  memory  flows 

Sweet  thought  of  a  bygone  day; 
Through  the  boughs  light  breezes 
steal 

And  my  cheek  is  softly  fanned, 
With  ecstacy  I  feel 

The  caress  of  thy  dear  hand. 
Thy  presence  fills  the  air.  .  .  . 

Hark,  how  the  wild  bird  trills — 
'Tis  thy  voice  soundeth  there 

And  all  my  being  thrills! 
01  is  the  vision  true 

Or  is  it  only  seeming? 
Doth  my  heart  but  picture  you? 

And  am  I  only  dreaming? 


Tvjenty.five 


THOUGHTS 


The  Water-Lily 

The  lily  hideth  fold  in  fold 
Of  petals  pure  a  heart  of  gold; 
What  sweetness  in  her  breast  con- 
cealed! 
What  loveliness  to  be  revealed 
By   the  magic  touch   of  the  sun's 

bright  ray, 
By  the  warm  embrace  of  the  God 
of  Day! 

Like     love     that's     hid,     not    yet 

exprest, 
Nor   yet    awake   in    the    maiden's 

breast — 
But  love's  sweet  pledge  shall  be 

fulfilled 
And  her  heart  of  love  be  stirred 

and  thrilled, 
Yes,  steeped  in  a  golden  rapturous 

bliss 
By  the  mystic  power  of  a  lover's 

kiss. 

Twenty-six 


THOUGHTS 


The  Meadows 

Beautiful  meadows  with  ricks  of 

hay! 
Sight  of  you  carries  me  far  away 
Into  a  land  of  enchanting  dreams 
Caroling   birds   and   the    hum    of 

streams, 
Gazing  and  wondering  with  wist- 
ful eyes, 
Longing,    perchance,    for   a   glad 

surprise! 
Blossom    of   hope   and  of   hearfs 

desires, 
Land  of  delight  where  one  never 

tires! 
Moving  in  cycles,  O  restless  soul, 
Can  you    ever  attain    that   happy 

goal? 
Or  is  fate  like  words  which,  alas! 

suggest 
Only  the  shadow  of  all  that's  best. 


Twenty-seven 


THOUGHTS 


Wandering  heart,  come  back — do 

not  stray — 
For  here  and  now  we^ll  have  our 

play 
Roving  in  meadows  with  ricks  of 

hay. 


Twenty-eight 


THOUGHTS 


To  Alice 

On  Her  Thirteenth  Birthday 

Just  thirteen  happy  years  ago 
When  the  earth  was  white  with  its 

cover  of  snow 
And  the  air  was  filled  with  ringing 

chime 
Of  the  blessed,  joyful,  Christmas 

time — ■ 
Into  the  world  came  a  baby  child 
With  eyes  like  stars,  yet  blue  and 

mild. 
Then  grew  she  into  a  little  maid 
And  all  that  ever  can  well  be  said 
Could  never  tell  of  the  bonny  grace 
That  shone  in  that  dear  and  dainty 

face. 
Now    time    has    led    with    loving 

hand 
Through  childhood^s  sunny  fairy- 
land 


Tvjent\-nine 


THOUGHTS 


That  little  maiden  pure  and  good 
Into  the  realm  of  womanhood. 
A  tender  message  wings  its  way 
To  wish  all  joy  to  her  glad  birth- 
day. 
Adieu,   dear   child,    for   now   ^tis 

mete — 
The    winsome    little    woman    to 
greet. 


Thirty 


THOUGHTS 


The  Waning  of  Summer 

Now  that  summer  is  on  the  wane 

The  smooth  false  foxglove  blooms 
again; 

The  flowers  of  the  blazing  star  ap- 
pear 

And  I  feel  that  autumn  is  very 
near. 

How    brief    the    days    of   August 

grow, 
How  quickly  they  glide  into  sunset 

glow! 
The  breath  of  summer  lingers  still, 
Howbeit  the  twilight  air  is  chill. 

We've  come,  alas!  to  the  parting 

ways. 
Adieu  must  bid  to  summer  days. 
From,  their  beauty  and  pleasure  as 

loth  to  part 
As  lover  true  from  fair  sweetheart. 

Thirty-one 


THOUGHTS 


But  lovers  bright  spell  and  summer 

must  pass 
Like  shadows  that  flit  and  dance 

o' er  the  grass. 
With   autumn   leaves  the  grass   is 

strewn, 
The  rapture  of  summer  is  gone — 

so  soon. 

Good-bye,  sweet  summer/ — be- 
hold, I  see 

How  the  goldenrod  leans  upon  the 
lea. 

The  purple  aster  is  waving  there 

And  I  know  that  autumn  is  in  the 
air. 


n)irty-two 


THOUGHTS 


Her  Portrait 

Are  you  truly  all  you  seem — 

A  thing  of  beauty,  a  lovely  dream? 

All  that  your  face  and  form  sug- 
gest 

Of  inner  beauty,  the  highest  and 
best? 

A  beauty  of  soul  beyond  compare 

Which  has  of  love  a  bounteous 
share? 

Standing  so  straight,  so  gracefully 
posed. 

With  a  far-off  look  in  the  eyes 
half-closed, 

With  a  lurking  smile  as  in  dream 
half -glad 

Or  in  revery  sweet  though  some- 
what sad .  .  .  . 

Such  beauty  reveaV d  in  the  mortal 
vfiold — 

Can  spirit  a  form  more  divine  un- 
fold? 

Thirty-three 


THOUGHTS 


99 


''The  Eternal  Feminine 

The  sea!  the  sea!  the  beautiful  sea! 
She  can  both  fair  and  treacherous 
be, 
She  lures  with  her  charm 
Concealing  all  harm — 
But  beware!  mayhap  there  is  dan- 
ger for  thee. 

The  sea,  like  fair  woman,  is  often 

capricious 
And  though  her  embraces  be  soft 
and  delicious 
And  her  radiant  smile 
Doth  sweetly  beguile, 
^Neath     beauty     enchanting    lurk 
forces  pernicious! 


Thirty-four 


THOUGHTS 


The  Bird  at  My  Window 


The  sweetest  bird 

I  ever  heard 
Sang  at  my  window  to-day 
A   tender  roundelay. 


On  what  he  said 

After  he  fled 
I  pondered  deep  and  long: 
'Twas  a  sweet  and  plaintive  song. 


Three 


THOUGHTS 


Moonlight  on  the  Sea 

When    o^er    thy    face    the    mobile 

moonbeams  play 
The  light  of  thy  smile  enchanting 

leads  the  mmy 
Into  the  rapture,  the  delight 
Gf   the  silent,    of   the    mysterious 

night.  .  .  . 
In  the  murmur  of  thy  voice  there  is 

a  luring  stress 
That  soothes  and  wraps  the  soul  in 

tenderest  caress, 
And    as    thou    creepest    near    and 

nearer  unto  me, 
It  is  as  though  with  yearning  arms, 

oh!  sighing  sea, 
Thou  would' st  my  form  enfold  in 

passionate  embrace. 
And  all   my   being  in   thy   charm 

enlace.  .  .  . 
The   spirit   of   love   and   night   is 

whispering  to  me 
Of  the  weird  and  mystic  beauty  of 

moonlight  on  the  sea. 

Four 


THOUGHTS 


The  Patter  of  Rain 

I  love  the  patter  of  rain, 

Of  rain  upon  the  roof; 
It  soothes  away  dull  pain 

And  holds  tired  thought  aloof. 


I  feel  a  deep  content, 

The  heart  revives  again — 

With  musings  sweet  is  blent 
The  sound  of  pattering  rain. 


Five 


THOUGHTS 


Witch-Hazel 

The  ■ivitch-hazel  broods  in  the  au- 
tumn woods 
In  a  flood  of  sunshine  mellow, 
Its  branches  forked  with  magic  are 
fraught 
And     tufted    with     flowers    of 
yellow. 

Its    leaves    of   green   and   reddish 
brown 
Upon  the  moist  earth  lie, 
But   the   subtle   fragrance    of   the 
flower 
Is  wafted  to  the  sky. 

The  witch-hazel  thus,  methought, 
it  tells 

By  its  fine  divining-rod 
Of  the  secret  mystery  of  life 

In  the  wondrous  plan  of  God. 


Six 


THOUGHTS 


The  human  form  of  earthly  mould 
When  it  has  served  its  day 

Like  the  fallen   leaves  returns  to 
the  sod 
In  its  own  appointed  way — 


But  the  essence  rare,  invisible. 

On  its  upward  course  is  bent 
And  the  spirit  of  man  ascends  to 
God 
Like    the    flower^s    bewildWing 
scent. 


Seven 


THOUGHTS 


The  Ocean 

Words  cannot  paint   the   ocean 

blue 
With    its   shifting   tints   of   tur- 
quoise hue, 
Sparkling    here    in    the    sunshine 

bright 
A  sheet  of  shimmering,  blinding 
light. 
While  there,  a  stretch  of  darker 

shade 
Lies  like  a  plain  of  dark  green 
jade; 
Yet  farther,  a  line  of  mist  so  thin 
A  passing  ship  is  traced  therein. 

Sailing  o'er  deeps  where  the  bil- 
lows roll 

Like  passions  that  surge  in 
man's  wild  soul. 


EiKhi 


THOUGHTS 


Turbulent,  ceaseless,  the  seas  un- 
rest 
Echoes  deep  down  in  the  human 
breast. 
But    beyond?    beyond?    in   vain 

peers  the  eye, 
Beyond  is  the  realm  where  mys- 
teries lie — 

Sailing  through  space  so  immeas- 
urably vast 
Into  the  Infinite  Ocean  at  last. 


Nine 


THOUGHTS 


March  Wind 

O!  for  the  sweet  March  wind  of 
the  Southland! 

There   to    forget   the   region   of 
snows, 

Careless  how  fiercely  the  North 
wind  blows, 

Riots  and  swirls  o^er  ice-bound 
floes.  ..  . 
Of   for   the   balmy   breeze    of   the 
Southland! 

In  swaying  pine-tops  softly  sigh- 
ing. 

Tenderly  whispering  of  love  un- 
dying. 

The  soul  in  wistful  sadness  re- 
plying, 
In   the  dreamy,  love-laden  air  of 
the  Southland! 


Ten 


THOUGHTS 


My  Sweetheart's  Bouquet 

Sweet  eyes  as  deep  as  gentian  blue 
PVhose     depths     the     soul     burns 

brightly  through 
Where  dwelleth  a  love  both  deep 

and  true. 

Sweet  lips  as  rich  carnations  red 
Tihat    breathe    the    tender    words 

once  said — 
KisSy  that  from  memory  ne^er  has 

fled. 

Soft    silky    threads    of    streaming 

hair 
Wooing  the  breeze  of  the  balmy 

air 
Like  the  flower  of  the  ribbon  grass 
flaxen  fair. 


Eleven 


THOUGHTS 


The  mind  of  a  lily ,  the  heart  of  a 

rose, 
Pansies  the  thought  as  it  comes  and 

goes 
Warming   the    cheek    as    it   softly 

glows. 

Sweeter  far  and  of  fairer  hue 

Is  a  flower  that  never  in  garden 

grew — 
/  can  not  name  it,  but  dear — ^tis 

you! 

Whatever    betides    or   come    what 

may, 
Sweetheart,  for  you  Fve  made  the 

bouquet, 
A  tribute  of  love  forever  and  aye. 


Twelve 


THOUGHTS 


My  Daffodil 

My  precious  flower!  my  daffodil! 
The  pretty  flower  thou   gavest 

me! 
With  sweet  and  loving  thoughts 
of  thee 
My  heart  and  pulses  thrill, 

O!  how   much   more  it  means   to 
me! 
So     commonplace     in     others^ 

eyes — 
To    me,   a   dear   and    cherished 
prize, 
Because,  my  love,  it  tells  of  thee. 

The  token  of  a  happy  hour 
Is  my  dear  golden  daffodil. 
Its  chalices  pure  love  distil, 

As  with  a  kiss  I  press  my  flower. 


Thirteen 


THOUGHTS 


April 

April^s   child   is   of  sunshine   and 

showers — 
(01  the  caprice  of  happy  hours!) 
A  moment  of  pleasure, 
Joy  without  measure, 
All  the  world  gleams 

Sun-flooded  with  beams — 
Then  comes  the  rush  of  blinding 

rain 
And  only  the  darkening  clouds  re- 
main! 

Life  is  not  always  tears  and  wiles, 
Life    has  its  share    of  beams  and 
smiles; 
Joys  flit  fast, 
Showers  do  not  last. 
Clouds  break  away. 
Behold!  the  sun's  ray — 
Buoying     with      hope — banishing 

fears 
The  beautiful  rainbow  of  promise 
appears. 

Fourteen 


THOUGHTS 


Jack'tn-the-Pulpit 

J ack-in-the-Pulpit  appears  to-day 

And  proclaims  to  all  who  come 
his  way 

A  sermon  of  love,  a  message  of 
spring, 

Which  Jack  and  all  his  compan- 
ions bring — 

Spring  Beauty,  Orchis,  Anemone- 
Rue, 

Blushing  R  ho  dor  a  and  Violet 
blue. 

And  gay  Wake  Robin,  while  Ad- 
der's Tongue  tells 

The  tidings  of  spring:  the  glad 
note  swells 

In  throat  of  bird  and  song  of  brook 

Which  hums  and  ripples  through 
shady  nook. 


Fifteen 


THOUGHTS 


All  proclaim  the  season  and  hour 

Of  joy  and  life  for  bird  and  flower. 

There  in  the  midst  of  this  multi- 
tude 

In  quiet  and  placid  dignity  stood 

J  ack-in-the-Pulpit — list!  did  he 
say 

In  the  promise  of  Spring  would 
dawn  a  day 

Of  hearfs  delight  and  desire- 
come-true? 

I  cannot  believe  it  at  all — 
Can  you? 


Sixteen 


THOUGHTS 


Sunlight 

The   day   was   gray,   the  sky   was 
overcast, 
Trees,  flowers,  all  forms  in  som- 
ber hue 
Stood  forth  as  though  by  a  cruel 
blast 
Blighted;  but  lo!  heaven  s  own 
kind  blue 
Through  a  cloud-rift  glimpsed — 
and  then,  at  last! 
The  splendor  and  glory  of  the 

sun  broke  through.  . . . 
Alas,  it  brought  deep  shadows 
too! 

O  wondrous  Nature!  by  a  law  di- 
vine 
Sunlight  and  shadows  make  the 
perfect  days; 


Seventeen 


THOUGHTS 


What    radiant    beauty    when    the 

sunbeams  shine 
Through    raindrops!  when    the 

sun's  bright  rays 
The  darkest  cloud  with  silver  line. 

Sunlight    or    shadows — heart- 
riven,  astray, 
Nature  reveals  the  perfect  way. 


Eighteen 


THOUGHTS 


A  Happy  Christmas 

What  means  the  joyous  peal  of 
bells? 

What  wondrous  story  the  chiming 
tells? 

'Neath  mistletoe,  holly  and  Christ- 
mas green 

Does  the  heart  the  sacred  lesson 
glean? 

In  glad  receiving  and  gladder  giv- 
ing 

Is  there  really  the  spirit  of  love 
and  of  living? 

Mayhap  in  festivities  gay  and  wild 

Is  forgotten  the  tale  of  the  dear 
Christ-child. 

His  was  the  gift  of  sacrifice 
That  would  make  of  our  world  a 
paradise; 


Fifty-one 


THOUGHTS 


A  Christmas  tree  in  your  heart  let 
grow 

That  will  bear  a  love-token  for  all 
below, 

Some  sacrifice  made,  some  service 
given, 

Some  good  to  others  for  which  you 
have  striven — 

This  is  the  spirit,  this  is  the  gift. 

Whereby  you  may  many  a  soul  up- 
lift. 

Thus  may  the  season  of  Christmas- 
tide 

Bring  love  and  light  that  truly 
bide. 

Bring  songs  of  praise  and  joyful 
sounds 

Which  follow  where  heartfelt  love 
abounds. 


Fifty -two 


THOUGHTS 


Bring  ^^ peace,  good  will  to  man  on 

earthl^ 
The  air  will  then   he  filled  with 

mirth, 
A    Happy     Christmas!    will    he 

found 
And  echoed  all  the  world  around. 


Fifty -three 


THOUGHTS 


The  Vigil  of  New  Year's  Eve 

When   eer  I  think   of  thee,  dear 
heart, 
Whose  life  went  out  in  giving 
birth 
To  that  sweet  image,  thy  counter- 
part .  .  . 
In  the  smile  that  breaks  in  dim- 
pled mirth 
O^er  her  face,  so  winsome  and  so 
fair. 
In  eyes  so  tender,  true  and  mild. 
In    the   sunlight    of   her   rippling 
hair. 
In  the  face  and  form  of  thy  own 
dear  child 
Thou  livest  again:  I  seem  to  see 
In    the   flickering   fire    through 
blinding  tear 
A  vision,  vivid  and  bright,  of  thee. 
And  thy  presence  seems  so  near 
— so  near! 


Fifty -four 


THOUGHTS 


Thus  as  my  midnight  vigil  I  keep 
Of  the  dying  year,  of  the  fading 
flame, 
I    ponder    on    death^s    mysterious 

sleep .... 
But  hark!  the  pealing  bells  pro- 
claim 
A  new  horn  child  to  Father  Time! 
And  a  note  of  joy  drives  back 
*    the  tear: 
^'Life  is  in   deatK'  sounds  in  the 
chime 
That  ushers  in — TS^ ew  Y ear. 


Fifty  five 


THOUGHTS 


Moods 

What  means  this  sigh  and  sadness? 

One  moment  bright  and  gay — 
Then  quickly  flies  all  gladness 

To  gloomy  thoughts  a  prey. 

A  sunbeam  through  the  curtain 

Reflects  elusive  light, 
Its  ray  is  most  uncertain; 

Cloud-chased,     it     soon     takes 
flight. 


Fifty-six 


THOUGHTS 


Sad  Heart 

Oh  sad  and  sorrowing  heart, 
Why  sit  alone  and  apart? 

There  is  work  in  the  world  for 
you 

Which  sadness  unfits  you  to  do. 

Life's  suffering,  turmoil  and  din 
Are  wrought  through  selfish  sin; 
There  is  so  much  self  in  sadness 
And    sweet    sacrifice    often    in 
gladness. 

Oh  sad  and  hungry  heart, 
How  selfish  and  erring  thou  art! 
To  lose  one's  life  is  to  gain 
All  the  sweetness  and  love  that 
remain. 

Only  in  following  faster 
The  sacred  word  of  the  Master, 
Service  for  others  giving — 
This  is  the  joy  of  living. 

Fifty-seven 


THOUGHTS 


Cow-Bells 

At  eventide  when  e'er  I  hear 
The    cow-bells    tinkling    far    and 

near 
I  fell  the  lure — the  strange  sweet 

spell 
Thafs  wrought  by  the  chime  of  the 

tinkling  bell. 
With    yearning    is     my    spirit 

fraught, 
Tinged     with     sadness     all     my 

thought — 
Kyes  tear-laden — and  I  weep 
While    the    shadows    round    me 

creep — • 
/  feel  the  lure,  the  sweet,  strange 

spell 
Wrought  by  the  charm  of  a  lowly 

bell. 


Fifty-eight 


THOUGHTS 


Good-Bye 

A  good-bye  sigh 
A  tearful  eye — 
The  sun  still  shines  but  the  world 

is  drear; 
Alas,   how   void — thou   art   not 

here! 

The  days  were  gay 
And  sped  away^ 

Too  fleeting,  too  swift  were  the 

days  of  yore — 
The  hours  are  now  twice  twenty- 
four. 

'Tis  sad  to  part. 
Oh  lonely  heart, 

Life  was  once  radiant  with  joy 
and  light, 

But  now  o' er  all  is  darkest  night. 


Fifty-nine 


THOUGHTS 


Behold!  afar 
A   beaming  star 

That  gleams  with   hope!  for  a 

while  we  part, 
But  love   abides  for   aye,   dear 
heart! 


Sixty 


THOUGHTS 


Who  Knows? 

What  voice  in  my  heart  is  calling 
Down  the  long  vista  of  years 

Awaking  a  sadness  and  longing — 
The  eyes  all  tears? 

A  far-off  echo  of  ages 

Of  a  life  that's  been  lived  be- 
fore: 
A  book  of  unwritten  pages, 

A  blank — nothing  more. 

Is  the  heart  to  its  influence  heir? 

The  pain,  the  sorrow,  the  bliss. 
All     the     burden     that     now     we 
bear     . 

The  key,  now,  to  this? 

In  future  estate  supernal 

Will  spirit  the  secret  disclose? 
Ah  the  mystery  of  life  eternal! 

Whence — whither — who  knows? 

Sixty-one 


THOUGHTS 


Look  Within 

The    light    within    us,    nigh    and 

nig  her, 
JVill   lead    us    upward   high   and 

higher: 
The  light  that  lures  us  in  the  star 
We  need  not  seek  it  from  afar. 


Sixty-two 


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